GREELY, Colo. — Local mother-in-law Angela Vaughn is going to great lengths to keep her sons’ and daughters’ spouses informed about celebrities who have recently gained weight, going so far as to publish a quarterly report.
“Jennifer Hudson’s gained fourteen pounds since ‘Dreamgirls.’ And she wasn’t exactly svelte at that point, either. Matt Damon? Matt Damon weighs two hundred fifteen pounds. That’s a lot of meat on the hoof. And oh, what’s-her-name, from ‘The Voice’…Kelly Clarkson. Have you seen Kelly Clarkson?” Vaughn said, before dropping the bomb that Clarkson still hasn’t, in her book, “lost her baby weight.” “Who else? Oh, yeah, looks like Jonah Hill is up again. Shocking.”
Vaughn’s son-in-law, Ray Wambold, expressed wonder at Vaughn’s ability to remain so in tune with the private patterns of weight fluctuation of total strangers.
“Unfortunately, with kids and a fulltime job, I don’t have much time to watch TMZ, Access Hollywood, or even the Daytime Emmys,” said Wambold, who works IT at University of Northern Colorado. “But Angela really circles me back to what’s important. The other day she asked if I’d seen Renee Zellweger lately. I was embarrassed to say I hadn’t. In fact, the name barely rang a bell. But then Angela gave me a little heads up: it appears — and you didn’t hear this from me — that Zellweger may have put on a few pounds since January.”
Los Angeles endocrinologist Marvin Brown confirmed many of Vaughn’s speculations and even uses her report as a professional resource.
“Whenever I have a question about a celebrity who I think might be packing it on, I cross-reference with the one and only Angela Vaughn. Like the other day I had Matthew McConaughey in. I said, ‘Matthew, have you been letting yourself go?’ When he said no, I slid open a drawer and brandished Angela’s report. He confessed immediately,” said Brown, who works with dozens of Hollywood A-listers. “Often she’ll give me the number of pounds she thinks someone’s gained since their last visit, and I just write that down on the official chart. Like right here I have Matthew Perry at two seventy-eight point two. That’s Angela for you.”
At press time, Vaughn reported that Wambold, at 43, has been looking a little fleshy lately, but that Halle Berry still looks good at 56.
Putting Angela in a Misfits cover band would be musical malpractice. There is no way she would be on board with the “Dead cats hanging from poles” line, and not to mention she’s openly Christian so she would get pretty uptight about all the demon references.
I’m not going to lie, on paper Robert California is a good candidate for this band. He’s charismatic, probably knows a guy that can do merch for cheap, and knows about spooky stuff, but there is one big problem. This isn’t a Graves-era cover band. No replacement players. Keep moving Bobby.
Cathy is one of the most hated characters in the history of the show. I just can’t be associated with her. I’m already on thin ice after I backed my car into my neighbor’s pool and then left without telling anyone. Being seen with Cathy is a death sentence.
Being an elected official already rules you out of being a part of this project. I’m going to need full dedication, I want someone that is willing to quit their job so we can make sure we know “Where Eagles Dare” backward and forward. There is no way a politician would be willing to work that hard for one night of glory.
This man can’t be trusted. He might be a solid worker and a great bandmate, but in the back of my head I’ll keep thinking he’s just using the band to get close to my wife so he can steal her away. Now it’s true that I don’t have a wife, or a girlfriend, and I haven’t felt the touch of a woman in over a decade. But still.
I don’t even know why I hate this guy, but I do. He just looks like the type of guy that would tell me about all the movies that Misfits songs reference. Newsflash buddy, I don’t give a rip. Stay away from me and stay inside on Halloween you creep.
There is no way that someone who names “Legally Blonde” as their favorite movie is going to know anything about the Misfits. Plus, there is no way she’s going to be willing to dye her hair black and wear a devilock.
Rolf is a loose cannon, and that might seem like a decent quality you want in a punk bandmate. But I don’t want to be on stage, in front of tens of people on our big night and have somebody smash me in the head with a stage monitor because I suggest we skip playing “20 Eyes.”
Charles has all the physical attributes I want in a band member, mainly it’s someone who is big and could easily beat the crap out of anyone who makes fun of our tight pants. But Charles is a corporate shill, I want someone willing to quit their job so they can dedicate their life to this important project.
She might be the closest in age to the real-life Misfits and since she lives in Florida she probably has some of the same politics. But I don’t want to have to worry about one of our members breaking a hip mid-set.
Clark is the type of guy that would be like “You play in a Misfits cover band? Yeah, I listened to them when I was 12 then I grew up.” And then he would talk about how underrated Guided by Voices is for the next two hours.
That fucking song. You can see how it happened – some fan of theirs told them “I could listen to that rhythm section all day” and they said “No problem!” Look, if you were forced to spend a day with a rhythm section you want it to be this one – but to single out one song on a Shellac album as unusual is so contradictory you might think we just used it as an easy excuse to put something in last place. The prog-rock “Tomorrowland” cover art doesn’t help either, so we’ll blame that too.
The title track that kicks off Shellac’s most recent full-length is perhaps the trio at their most “normal rock band,” even with the 7/4 time and story about a family of horny gibbons or whatever. Much of the rest is obsessed with surveyors – disgraced Colonial soldier George Washington was a surveyor, the mayor of Chicago is a surveyor, there’s even an instrumental that’s somehow about doing surveys. How likely are you to recommend this album to a friend? Less so with each passing song about surveys.
Now this is cover art! Uffizi, the eponymous superb pooch, looks pleased as punch to be posed amongst prop produce on the album’s cover. Like the cutie-pie canine, Shellac can seem a bit chilled out on this record – “Kittypants” is the loveliest goddamn thing – but you’re not safe yet. Some of this fruit and veg has gone off, and it won’t be long until this stellar pupperino gets tired of sitting around and leaves us to sit alone with the rot. Guest appearances include Strong Bad, so the album is a little dated.
To refer to “At Action Park” as a seminal noise record is a little tired at this point, and there are far too many mentions of cum in Shellac’s lyrics to be comfortable referring to anything in this piece as “seminal.” This band emerged from the womb fully formed presenting a song-as-concept approach to guitar rock; one that flips off and makes perverse any attempts to add concepts to the established song structure. You absolutely cannot fake this.
Imagine releasing an album in 2023 and starting it off with a guest vocal from Taylor Swift. That’s almost at the level of starting your 2000 album with the crooning tones of Philip Baker “Jimmy Gator” Hall, and that move alone gets “1000 Hurts” the top spot. Deadly songs about JFK, squirrels, shoes and watches work as hard as they can to ensure the victory. The drums are Jovian and the bass is dirtier than a shit farmer’s boots. The steelwork guitar slashes constantly at your throat – never more than when mourning a recently departed mother. Perfect.
Isis popped out this debut before they really found their own sound; that special noise that makes you think you’re walking on Mars, traversing through the jungle, or traversing through a jungle on Mars. Although this comes across more as a mid-tier homage to Neurosis rather than the four masterpieces that follow, there is plenty of substance to hold your attention. From the opening riff of “Deconstructing Towers,” you instantly feel as if you want to join a demolition crew and start swinging a sledgehammer into random buildings. This song will get your blood pumping and make you headbutt a cactus. The biggest problem with this record is that it isn’t “Panopticon,” “In the Absence of Truth,” or “Oceanic.”
This effort stepped away significantly from their past gritty entries and instead leaned on a slick and smooth performance instead. As they shied away from early Cult of Luna territory and leaned more into Explosions in the Sky country here, the quality didn’t suffer. Aaron Harris’ drumming is absolutely hypnotic to the point where you will feel as if you are in a trance for the majority of the hour then you come out of it realizing you robbed a liquor store, but just for the beef jerky so it’s not that bad. Anyway, it’s Harris’ best performance as he steals the show for sure, along with the ethereal, electronic soundscapes. This is a shiny re-birth for Isis; perhaps it’s the only set of melodies you can listen to comfortably in business casual clothes.
I can confidently say this is their breakthrough album. It’s everything “Celestial” wanted to be, and bassist Jeff Caxide’s booming sound repeatedly wears out his strings to make that abundantly clear. Rarely does an album bookend itself with the best tracks, but Isis manages to do that here. It knocks you on your ass from the first second and keeps you there until the last one. This 9-song collection could easily go second, or even first. Hell, it would be the best album for a lot of groups out there. But honestly, what choice do I have considering their next two productions?
What would a good album ranking do without causing a little controversy? While every Isis fan will probably eviscerate me for putting this album above “Oceanic,” I think it is justified. They took the best from their previous work and weaved them seamlessly together here, where the clean textures of “In the Absence of Truth” complement the powerful chugs from “Oceanic.” Together, every one constructed a perfect swan song; they definitely went out on top. When the last song, and thus their musical career, ends, you want nothing more than Aaron Turner to wrap you in a blanket cocoon and rock you gently back and forth while the two of you sway together in a rocking chair.
Come on. Was there any other choice here? Well, yes, actually. Every Isis album except for “Celestial” has a case for being at the top. In fact, they definitely all have been my favorite album at some point. Still, I consider this to be their magnum opus. If you listen to one post-metal album in your entire life, make it this one. Aaron Turner’s throaty gusts immediately set the tone from “So Did We” to “Grinning Mouths.” Even when you can’t understand his lyrics, you can tell that Isis means business here. This stroke of perfection has something for every Isis fan. If you don’t agree, there is definitely something wrong with you.